


Breathing

by holyfant



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Post-Hogwarts, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 03:26:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5612188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holyfant/pseuds/holyfant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I feel,” she blurted out, “like I'm not allowed to hurt him, ever, and I just don't know if that's possible, Luna.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the New Year's Inter-Fandom Fic Fest over at the rant meme, for anon. :-)

“Oh, hello,” Luna said when Ginny came storming into the kitchen at the Burrow, having lifted the skirt of her wedding dress to be able to run.

 

“Luna!” Ginny exclaimed in surprise, dropping the skirt.

 

“Hi.” Luna smiled, apparently unsurprised at Ginny's unceremonious entrance. “I ran away from Seamus Finnigan for a bit. He's had a bit too much Firewhiskey.”

 

“Right,” Ginny said, and as she stood there the feeling that she really wanted Luna to leave dissipated. “I'm just having – a bit of a –” She waved a hand around, as if trying to catch the words to describe it. The tight bodice of her dress, that had made her feel so beautiful before, new seemed to be pressing the air out of her lungs. “Could you – get me a glass of water?” She struggled with the gauzy, voluminous layers of her skirt, and finally managed to sit down.

 

Luna filled a glass at the tap, looking serenely out the window at the wedding party out on the lawn. She had stuck her wand into the fiddly updo Ginny's mum had insisted all the bridesmaids have. “I can see Harry from here,” she said. “He looks handsome, doesn't he?”

 

“Yeah,” Ginny said, though she wished Luna hadn't asked her that.

 

“Won't he miss you?”

 

“He was talking to Ron,” Ginny said, and took a breath, and another, and another, because she couldn't seem to get enough air.

 

“Ah yes, there's Ronald,” Luna said vaguely. “He looks handsome too.”

 

Ginny sucked her cheek, thinking about the intricate way the bodice was laced, how long it had taken her mum to lace it up, and how long it would take to undo it again. The thought sent a jolt of fear through her, and something in her wanted to start clawing at the dress, get it off, _get it off_ –

 

“Slow down,” Luna said.

 

“What?” Ginny gasped.

 

“Breathe slower. You're hyperventilating.” She held out the glass of water.

 

Ginny took it, trying to steady her hands. “Am – am I?”

 

“Yes. My mum used to say a paper bag helped, but –” Luna frowned. “I don't quite know what its purpose was.”

 

Ginny laughed a little, in spite of herself, and tried to drink. But she still felt like she couldn't breathe.

 

“Luna, can you.” She sucked in another breath, her fear jumping with her pulse. “Can you – help me get this dress undone?”

 

“If you want, yes. But you should breathe out. That'll help more.”

 

“No, it's.” Ginny gulped air. “I can't – breathe _in_ , that's the problem –”

 

Luna knelt in front of Ginny's chair and took her gently by the arms. “Look at me,” she said. “I'm going to count to eight, and you're going to breathe out until I reach eight.”

 

“Luna –”

 

“One. Breathe out. Come on. Yes, that's it.” Luna nodded. “Two. Three. Four. Keep going, five. Six. Seven. Eight.”

 

Ginny blew out her breath, feeling ridiculous.

 

“Now, breathe in – slowly. One, two, three, four. Stop. Breathe out. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”

 

The tightness inside Ginny's chest eased up a little. “It's working,” she said, and blew out again, following Luna through three more breathing sets.

 

“There you are.” Luna smiled, and got up. “You _think_ you need to breathe in, but you really need to breathe out. Sometimes we don't know what we need.”

 

Ginny pressed a hand to her chest, and let out another long breath, feeling calmer. “Yeah,” she said. “Sometimes we don't.”

 

Luna took the seat opposite her, and looked at her for a long moment. Ginny was used to Luna's eyes, their arresting colour, the way they could lock you in place – but this time, she found it a bit hard to bear and dropped the look.

 

“Thank you for making me a bridesmaid,” Luna finally said. “I'm enjoying it very much.”

 

“I'm glad.” Ginny tried to smile. “Even with Seamus Finnigan chasing after you?”

 

“Oh, he's very nice. He just keeps wanting to kiss, and I'm not really interested in that.”

 

That made Ginny smile for real. “Not in kissing him, or in general?”

 

Luna thought about it. “Him, I think.”

 

They were quiet for a moment; it was such a contrast from the scene of chaos that she'd just fled that Ginny felt a little wrong-footed. But silence was easy with Luna; it had always been. She drank more water, and felt the sun-and-champagne haze leave her a little. Suddenly it seemed juvenile, to've left Harry there the way she had, to've felt that urge to get away from him, from all of them. She knew her mum would be upset with her, would want to know what was going on. A burst of shame soured her throat, and she swallowed, trying to clear it away. She'd have to go back soon.

 

“Are you all right?” Luna asked. The way she asked it: serious, calm. Like the answer could be the truth.

 

“I'm not sure.”

 

“Can I help?”

 

Ginny smiled. “I'm glad I can sit here for a moment. That helps.”

 

Luna leaned forward over the table. She'd twined a marigold around the shoulder strap of her bridesmaid dress, Ginny noticed. “You said,” Luna said, “two years ago, you said… You wanted to go to Sweden. See the cities built on lakes, and the bonfires in winter.”

 

Ginny frowned, and then recalled the conversation: during the battle, as the pillars of the East Wing were crumbling around them, and they had ducked into an alcove together, not sure if they'd survive. “I – yeah. I did.”

 

“Do you still?”

 

Something about the question made Ginny's throat contract. “Yes.”

 

“I'd like to, too,” Luna said, and her eyes slipped away, to the window. “If you want, we can still go.”

 

“Yeah,” Ginny said, but thought of Harry – he'd never gone anywhere except Scotland; his dreadful Muggle family had never let him. She knew he wanted to see the Continent, the south, places where he imagined people wouldn't recognise him; she didn't dare tell him that she thought there was no magical place on earth that would ever be true.

 

“You don't have to tell me,” Luna said, “but are you happy?”

 

They looked at each other. “Mostly,” Ginny said, her voice coming out strange.

 

Luna tipped her head. “Is that what you'd hoped for?”

 

Ginny thought: I can't cry, I've got make-up on. “No,” she said, because she could say that, with Luna. “And it's – today, it should be… absolutely wonderful, shouldn't it?”

 

“Maybe,” Luna said calmly. “I wouldn't know. I've never got married before.”

 

Ginny laughed, starting to feel a touch hysterical. “Will you ever?”

 

Luna shrugged. Ginny wished, for a moment, that she were more like Luna. “But it's different,” Luna said. “I've only got daddy, and he doesn't...” She smiled. “It's different for you.”

 

“They,” Ginny began, and had to take another deep breath. She focused on blowing it out. She felt a stab of disloyalty for even thinking these thoughts. “They… _need_ us to be happy. It's like… all that we've suffered can be undone, but only if we're happy.” She shook her head. “And Harry, he…”

 

“He believes that,” Luna said. “You don't blame him for that.”

 

“No, of course not.” But. But. _She_ didn't believe it. Harry seemed to think that if everyone just acted as if the first seventeen years of his life had never happened, they would simply fade away with time, leaving him intact – not healed, but like he'd never been hurt in the first place. He'd had a nasty fight with Hermione about it; she'd kept talking about therapy, about treatment, and Harry had got ugly with her in a way Ginny had never seen. She shivered a little, despite the warmth of the summer day. “I feel,” she blurted out, “like I'm not allowed to hurt him, ever, and I just don't know if that's possible, Luna.”

 

Luna gave her a soft look. “It's not. I don't think.”

 

Ginny looked at her empty glass. “Is it too late to go back now?” That she was even speaking the thought aloud, sitting across someone who was not her husband at her own wedding, and honestly, _truly_ contemplating running away with that person to somewhere else, to the lakes, to the bonfires: it shocked her, but it also set something on edge, something strong that she'd suppressed for a long time. She took a deep breath, blew it out, counted to eight.

 

Luna reached across and touched her hand. “I don't think so,” she said. “It's never too late, for anything. And if it hurts, that just means it's important.”

 

The sun slanted into the kitchen, warming one of Ginny's shoulders. She looked at Luna for what felt like a long time; and Luna let her, simply looking back, her pale eyes calm and serene.

 

Someone came in. “Ginny?” By his voice she knew it was Harry; he was backlit by the sun, his edges blurred. “Oh, here you are,” he said. “No one knew where you were.” He came over to the table, resolving into a firmer shape. “Hi, Luna,” he said, smiling. “You look lovely. I like your flower.”

 

“Thanks, Harry,” Luna said, and smiled back. “It's a marigold. I picked it out back. You look lovely too.” She slowly drew back her hand from where it had been touching Ginny's.

 

Harry took a seat next to Ginny. Ginny's tongue felt frozen inside her mouth as she watched him do it. “I'm glad to be out of there for a bit, to be honest,” he said. “Seamus is making things explode.”

 

Luna laughed. “I'll go and set him right.” She got up, gave Ginny a look that could have meant anything; Ginny couldn't read it. She left. Both Harry and Ginny watched her go.

 

“Hey,” Harry said, and touched his hand to Ginny's cheek, brushing away an escaped lock of hair. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yes,” she said, and was surprised at how normal she sounded. “I just got a little dazed by the champagne. I had some water. I'm fine.”

 

“All right.” He smiled. He loved her. “Luna doing well?”

 

“I think so,” Ginny said. She breathed out, and started to count.

 

“Good,” Harry said, and he seemed satisfied.


End file.
